Drizzle
by tanub
Summary: A rainy night montage.
1. Drizzle

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters, names belong to the WB and Dorothy Parker Drank Here productions.  

Spoilers: None

Pairings: Probably R/J, L/L, you might see a little of other characters too.

**Drizzle.**

Thunder crashed and lightning flashed, and rain pattered noisily on the roof. Rory Gilmore huddled inside her blanket, shivering. It was so chilly. She grimaced – funny, it rarely rained in Star's Hollow. She cuddled up to her pillow and closed her eyes tight, her book still tucked in the crook of her arm. It was way too early on a Saturday morning for any Gilmore to be awake. She closed her eyes, and tried to fall back asleep but no – what was that flapping at her ears? Cold, wet – oh, geez. 

Rory sat up in her bed, thoroughly peeved at being deprived of her sleep, and glared. Tousled dark brown hair and deep brown eyes stared back at her past the pumpkin-patterned curtains. 

Her windows were wide open, and Jess was standing there. 

Rory gave a yelp of surprise and hurriedly brushed a few strands of long brown hair away from her eyes. 

"Jess Mariano – what in the name of…what the hell are you doing here?" Rory hoped she sounded furious. 

Jess gave a nervous smile and gestured vaguely. "I came to return your book." 

Rory noticed how wet and cold he too must be, standing there in the rain, his Tool t-shirt clinging to his skin. But hang on, just a second – "Jess, you came to return my book?" Rory's expression changed to one of incredulousness. She maneuvered herself around to look at the clock, tucking her legs under her. "It's three a.m. in the morning!" 

"Yeah well. I was bored." He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep." Rory acknowledged this with a slight tilt of her head, noting with embarrassment that her pajamas were covered from head to toe in cherry red tomatoes. 

Jess shivered again, this time holding out a rain-soaked Dickens. "I'm sorry it's slightly wet." Rory stared down at the mangled wet mess. "I didn't know it was going to rain – " Jess tried to defend himself, shrugging apologetically – well, shrugging as best as one could while shivering to the bone. He tried to brush a few wet locks away from his forehead as Rory sat still on her bed, still silent, staring quietly back at him. 

"Are you ever gonna ask me to come in? It's really lovely out here and everything but –" Rory shook her head slightly exasperatedly, a smile tugging at her lips. She crawled over to her window and gently kissed his cold, damp forehead. Jess looked mildly surprised, but pleased all the same – still, a little too envious of Rory's mostly warm and dry bedroom. She tugged at his sleeve and pulled him into her room. 

"On the couch", she said with mock severity. Jess sat down, albeit bemusedly. "And be quiet. I mean, I know Mom was queen of sneaking boys into her room but…I mean, I think she's a little more accepting of you now that you're my - do you know what I mean?"  Jess laughed a little nervously and shifted himself to get a little more comfortable, leaving a wet orange patch where he previously had been. 

"You're dripping," Rory commented dryly. "Hang on – and remember, any shuffling, moaning, croaking – any weird noises at all, and into the closet you go. Mom's cool and all but I don't think she'd understand." She tiptoed out of her room, looking around cautiously, and returned with a hamburger-patterned towel. "My mom," she explained as he cocked a curious eyebrow. 

Jess stood up and took the towel as Rory relapsed back into thoughtful silence. She sat down on the couch and crossed her legs modestly, looking around herself warily. Jess paused. "Well, you know – my mind reading abilities aren't what they used to be. You're gonna have to give me a hand here." He smiled, looking at her nervously. Rory could still hear the rain crashing noisily. She hoped it would drown out any noise – she didn't like doing this, hiding from her mom. She made no reply. But she liked Jess. Jess was…Jess. Her mom just didn't understand. 

Jess looked a little unsure. He tucked his hands into his pockets. "Hey, if you want me to go then I'll – " He took a small step back towards the window. 

"So, did you like it?" Jess stopped dead in his tracks. "The book. Did you like the book?" Jess looked relieved, and sat down in the couch next to Rory – but not too close. He lowered his voice down to a soft whisper, just to be safe. You could never be too careful with Lorelai Gilmore, and to be frank, he was slightly scared of her, and what she could do between him and Rory. A little of his self-assured confidence seeped back into his tone.  

"Yeah." He looked at her. "I did." Rory smiled, relaxing slightly. "I really didn't expect to though, I mean. It's been a really long time since I've read a Dickens." 

"Yeah, well, I didn't like him either the first time I read him. I tried Oliver Twist for the first time when I was eight." 

"Eight? Whoa, Dickens at eight, Ayn Rand at ten, what next?" Rory laughed at Jess' incredulous expression. 

"Yeah. I got past about 20 pages and stopped. I was bored stiff. I think he spent two pages describing a sign post." 

"It's a great book, though." 

"You got it, Dodger." Jess looked at her, to see if she still remembered. She did. He smiled in recollection of times gone by. Rory looked back at her now soaked Dickens, sitting on her bed. She picked it up and opened it to a random page, and frowned. She ran her finger along the margin, over words scrawled messily in pencil. The occasional remark, comment, a highlight or a random thought-of-the-day. She closed the book and rested her head on Jess' shoulder, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. Jess drew her close to him, an arm around her slim shoulders, and grabbed another book lying on the table. He smiled when he saw the title. 

"Howl, by Allen Ginsberg. You were reading this?" He looked at her slyly, but Rory didn't seem to have heard. He bent over and kissed her deeply, tenderly, and pretty darn passionately, eliciting a moan of surprise as he ran her tongue across her bottom lip. 

The rain had quieted, almost to a drizzle. Jess pulled away slowly, slightly scared that Lorelai might come storming in any moment. Rory tried to keep contact, then sank back onto his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed. She yawned and sleepily gestured towards the book Jess was holding. "That's a good book." 

Jess opened the book, flipping through, deeply engrossed, and noting some of the comments Rory herself had scrawled in in reply to his own. He was smiling, he realized. Rory pushed herself into a more comfortable position, leaning against him, falling asleep. 

The rain had almost stopped, you could barely hear the occasional drip of water on the porch. The air smelt of wet grass, flowers, and dew. The window was still open. 

It was four a.m. on a Saturday morning. 


	2. Rain

Disclaimer: I own nothing. 

**Rain.**

Lorelai wasn't asleep. Not at all. She sat on the edge of her bed, feet dangling, toes wriggling. Times like these made her feel eight years old all over again. Rain streamed down the frosted glass pane, and she thought she could hear the distant pitter-patter-pitter-patter as raindrops hit the ground. Enveloped by the darkness of night and embraced by the soothing drum of rain, Lorelai Gilmore was euphoric. She breathed in deeply and lay back against her pillows, cool against her bare skin. 

She couldn't fall asleep again. It was three a.m. on a Saturday, true, and no self-respecting Gilmore girl should be up at such an unearthly hour. She thought of Rory, fast asleep, dreaming dreams of Harvard or Yale, or god forbid – Jess. She thought of dinner, last night with the parents. She thought. – She thought she heard a yelp. 

But it's probably just the rain. 

She couldn't go back to sleep. She sat back up in her bed, frowning. Three a.m. in the morning, and she had nowhere to go. Lorelai dragged herself onto the floor, pushing the bed sheets and blankets off her – they'd never seemed quite so suffocating before. She tiptoed out of her room. She'd probably go downstairs; grab a cup of coffee or two. Maybe she'd watch a little late night TV.  

Or maybe she'd just stay here, and listen to the rain. 

Lorelai leaned over and switched her CD player on. Mmm. There's nothing like Metallica at a time like this. Especially if it's raining. Lorelai felt giddy with happiness, but then she always felt giddy. She looked out the window and she thought she saw the sun peeking out from behind the horizon, glistening through the rain. She didn't think she'd ever seen the sun rise before. 

Within minutes Lorelai was sitting on the porch, sheltered from the rain, sipping a cup of coffee. She thought she'd seen a light flicker in Rory's room on her way down, but she couldn't be sure. Probably just the lightning. The lukewarm coffee warmed her insides as the cold draught ruffled her hair. She wrapped a blanket around herself, and huddled inside. She'd have preferred a cup of Luke's coffee any time, but she didn't think he'd welcome her if she arrived on her doorstep at three a.m. in the morning. Although, knowing Luke, he was probably out for an early morning jog or something. She shuddered. Jogging. Who'd want to do something like that voluntarily? 

The rain drowned out any outside noise, though Lorelai thought she could still hear strains of the chorus of Fuel. Lorelai reached a foot out and gingerly toed the wet, muddy grass. It felt cold, a bit hard, but mmm, so nice. Nice was a good word. 

Lorelai put out another food, then an arm, and then shifted herself so that she was on the grass, rain pouring down all around her. She was soaked to the bone, pajamas sticking to her arms and legs and back. She jumped up and down once or twice, then twirled. Rory was probably right – Lorelai Gilmore was thirty-four going on six. Excitement coursed through her veins, and she twirled once more for good measure. 

"Lorelai!" A voice called out in the dark, sounding horrified. Lorelai swiveled around on her heels to see Luke gaping at her from the window of his truck, his cap askew. She smiled, and strutted over to his truck, leaning in with a dazzling smile. 

"Hey, burger boy." She touched his arm lightly. He shivered at her freezing touch. 

"What the hell are you doing, dancing around like this, in the rain? And it's – " Luke peered at his watch " – three thirty a.m. On a Saturday. Lorelai, are you high?" Luke demanded, looking furious. "Believe me, if you're sick in bed tomorrow, don't expect me to drop by with soup and a cup of coffee." Lorelai giggled and shrugged, then tugged at his sleeve playfully. Luke felt exasperated. He swore, sometimes he just didn't know what to do with this girl. 

"Look." Lorelai waved her arm, gesturing at everything around them. The rain, the flowers, the hint of sunrise – but Luke didn't see any of this. Lorelai's face was alive with wonderment and glee. 

He thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

For once, Lorelai appeared speechless, as she stared back at him through those blue eyes, her dark brown wet hair sticking to the nape of her neck. Luke tried his hardest not to look at her pajamas. Rain was streaming down her face, her neck, and Lorelai shivered ever so slightly. 

Luke noticed, and he sighed. "Come on," he said, pulling open the door. "Let's get you warm and dry." Lorelai climbed in reluctantly, curling up in the seat of his truck, head on her knees, legs tucked under here. Luke reached into his glove compartment and pulled out a thermos flask. "Here."

Coffee. Wonderful, wonderful coffee. Steaming hot under her fingertips, her lips and tongue thawed under its bittersweet taste. 

"Honestly, Lorelai – what is wrong with you; for one, you're never up this early – someone should document this. Lorelai Gilmore, awake at three thirty a.m. on a Saturday morning. You'd make headlines."

Lorelai looked up from her coffee rather indignantly. "Hey." It might be true, but a true Gilmore Girl never goes down without a fight. "It was raining," as though it explained everything. "And besides," her eyes narrowed. "You're up too, and you're here. What are you doing here?" She glared accusingly, as Luke squirmed uncomfortably.

"I had stuff. To do, I mean." Lorelai cocked an eyebrow. "Rory's light is on," Luke noted suddenly, seeming eager to avoid the subject. Lorelai was still soaked, and a little too engrossed with coffee to care. 

"She's probably reading, or something." Lorelai waved it off nonchalantly. 

"Or something." Luke echoed thoughtfully, remembering the two empty beds he'd left behind. He decided not to mention it. 

Lorelai looked like she was getting comfortable. Still drenched with rain. It didn't appear to bother her much though, but Luke knew a sick Gilmore was a cranky Gilmore. He thought he liked his Gilmores better cheery. He handed her his flannel shirt. "Here. Dry off." Lorelai snuggled into his shirt without a word. " – and don't go getting too close, 'cause I want it back."

"Aw, 'cause I was thinking of naming it – "

"Lorelai." Luke interrupted loudly. Lorelai stifled a yawn. Now that she was all warm and pretty much dry, she felt sleepy again. It wasn't even really raining anymore. More of a drizzle really. Lorelai cuddled up to Luke, pulling his arm around her waist, leaning her head against his chest. Mmm. Luke-arms. She wouldn't normally do this, she assured herself. He was warn, and familiar. 

"Lorelai…" Luke sounded a bit confused, peering down at the dark mass of curls in his arms. Lorelai didn't answer. 

The rain had come to a standstill. Luke leaned his head back against his seat. He didn't know what to do, but then he never knew what to do around Lorelai. 

Four a.m., on a Saturday morning.  


End file.
